


Dear Alec (On Hiatus)

by everylosttouch



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Lost Mail AU, M/M, Magnus Bane-centric, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Professor Magnus Bane, References to Clizzy and Jimon, Slow Burn, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15448650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everylosttouch/pseuds/everylosttouch
Summary: After years of teaching in the busy city of Los Angeles, Magnus is eager to settle down in a city he can call “home”. He finds an apartment with an astounding view, and lands a job he enjoys. After moving in, he goes to check the mail, only to find a blank envelope sitting alone in the mailbox.  Curiously, he opens the letter, only to find that it’s addressed to someone else.Now, Magnus just has one huge question.Who is Alec?





	Dear Alec (On Hiatus)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies! It's been a minute, hasn't it?  
> Well I am pleased to say that I have returned with another multi-chaptered fic! Thanks to you guys on twitter and tumblr, _Dear Alec_ was chosen to be the next fic. And here it is!
> 
> I'm very excited for this fic and for what's in store, so I hope you guys are too!
> 
> I want to also thank my wonderful and lovely beta, [milominderbindered](https://archiveofourown.org/users/milominderbinder/pseuds/milominderbinder) who is helping me through this fic! We're both excited to bring this story to life!
> 
> One last note before you guys dive in, I am over on twitter and if you're live tweeting, use the hashtag #DearAlec!

Cincinnati, Ohio has its charm.

It’s calm compared to the constant bustle of Los Angeles, with far less traffic and far friendlier people. The air is clean and crisp, a direct antithesis to the smoky bog of California.

In short, this city seems like the clean slate he was looking for.

The university, he finds, is especially charming and just as beautiful, with old historical buildings surrounded by lavish green grass and blooming spring foliage. As he strolls down the sidewalk, he takes in the sights, the smells, the sounds.

There’s potential here.

He makes it to the English building in no time, walking in until he reaches the line of offices on the ground floor. His footsteps are muted by the grey carpet, making him soundless as he draws closer to the end of the hall, where the last door on the left is open, spilling rays of fluorescent light into the hall.

He stops, leaning against the doorframe of the open office with an amused smile.

“I haven’t seen an expression like that since you bailed me out after what happened in Peru.”

The man sitting in the chair jolts so much that the papers in his hands go flying. The crisp sound of them accompanies the action, ringing through the small office.

“Goodness me!” he exclaims. His surprised expression immediately melts the second his eyes fixate on his guest in the doorway. A frown settles over his features, brows threading together. “Must you always do that?”

“I only do it because the expression is priceless,” he quips back, taking a few strides into the office. His painted fingernails trail across the desktop. “You really should come to expect it after so many years, Ragnor.”

Ragnor’s scowl deepens. “I try to, but you forget that you are wildly unpredictable, Magnus.”

Magnus smiles at that, picking up a trinket from Ragnor’s desk. “So,” he starts, placing it back down and turning back to Ragnor, “What is it that had you so despondent?”

Ragnor sighs in defeat, glancing down to the papers he collected. “It’s as if they aren’t trying,” he says, gesturing to the papers. “They are English majors, Magnus, and yet they write as if they are children!”

Magnus chuckles at that. “You’re expectations are just impossible,” he quips, taking one of the papers in his hands as he sits in one of the chairs across from Ragnor. “You have to remember, they’re freshman.”

Ragnor huffs. “Unfortunately, you’re wrong,” he states, leaning back in his chair. “The stack of papers in front of you are all from graduate students.”

_Oof,_ Magnus thinks, flipping through the essay in his hands. “In that case, these are _awful_.”

Ragnor laughs at that, taking back the paper from Magnus. “You would think a graduate student could properly assess the illustrations Hemingway presents in his work, but apparently I was wrong.”

Magnus skims through the essay in his hands, shaking his head with a disbelieving huff. “This _is_ one of your more difficult prompts though, Ragnor,” he states, flipping the page.

“Don’t let them off so easily,” Ragnor pouts. “If they really want their graduate degrees, they’ll have to go above and beyond a simple book report.” He leans back in his chair, turning it to go over to the coffee pot and pour a cup for himself and Magnus. He places the blackened liquid in front of Magnus. “You’ll soon be in my shoes too, dear friend,” he starts with a smirk. “Don’t think I forgot about your interview all those months ago.”

Magnus grabs the warm cup of coffee in his hands, a small smirk tugging at the side of his lips before he blows at the cup. He takes a gentle sip, careful not to burn his tongue before putting it back down against the desk.

It’s true, he acknowledges, he did have an interview a couple months back. He had lived in LA at the time, teaching at the university there and making a name for himself. He’d participated in a plethora of historical panels, led research in collaboration with the archeology and anthropology departments, and even won a prized award for his most recent manuscript. Needless to say, from his years in LA, he caught the attention of several other groups, all reaching out with offers.

Magnus chose the University of Cincinnati for a couple reasons. Though UCLA had its perks, Los Angeles was exhausting. After living there for over a decade, he’d been drained, losing his passion and diving into work at the university. He missed the passion, the curiosity that came with his job. He needed a change of pace, a place that wouldn’t exhaust him so quickly, a place that offered rich history and scenic views, a place he could be closer towards family.

Family is the only other reason why he chose Cincinnati. Ragnor and Catarina, his friends practically since birth, have been living here for years. When he had visited, they’d pull him to different destinations, each more enthralling than the last. It felt like the old days, where they’d sneak off of campus to go explore the town. It was a feeling he had missed greatly over in California, and though he had made many good friends there, it was nothing like being with Ragnor and Catarina.

Quite simply, being with them feels like coming home.

And so now here he is, taking the job as a professor at the University of Cincinnati with Ragnor, the overly stuffy teacher of the graduate English department.

He couldn’t have picked a better place to settle.

Magnus glances up from the cup to see Ragnor glancing expectantly at him. He gives a smile before looking to the stack of papers on Ragnor’s desk.

“Unfortunately, though I will be teaching, I’ll be teaching the undergraduates. So even if the quality of their work is the same as this,” he says, gesturing to the papers, “they have a bit more leeway.”

Ragnor frowns at that. “Undergraduates?” he questions. “But I thought you hated undergraduates.”

Magnus snorts. “I think you’re getting me mixed up with Lorenzo. Undergraduates are eager to learn, ready to get out there,” he gestures, going to take another sip of his coffee. “I feel it’s a responsibility of mine to inspire them.”

Ragnor rolls  his eyes. “You don’t owe them anything.”

Magnus shrugs, raising the mug to his lips once more. “They have paid their way here to learn. They have a world of opportunity here to find and explore their passions.” He leans back into his chair. “Do you think you’d be here if it wasn’t for Dr. Allison’s class back when _we_ were undergrads?”

Ragnor shifts uncomfortably in his seat at Magnus’ point. “Fair enough,” he grumbles. “But don’t come crying to me when they don’t understand the basics of Greek history and mythology.”

Magnus rolls his eyes at that, accompanied by a low chuckle as he sips at his coffee again.

It falls back into a steady silence between them, with Ragnor sipping silently at his slightly sweet coffee and thumbing through the papers his graduate students submitted. Magnus looks around the small office, taking in all of Ragnor’s personal items, his trinkets from travelling, the picture of him, Magnus, and Catarina resting in a gentle frame on the bookshelf to his left.

“How’s Cat?” Magnus perks up. “Is she still working at the hospital?”

“As hard as ever,” Ragnor replies, underlining a particular sentence with red pen. He scribbles a few notes next to it before moving on. “Though she always takes time off to pick up Madzie from school,” he adds with a smile.

Magnus lets a smile of his own spread across his face, clinking his rings lightly against the porcelain of the mug. He hasn’t seen Madzie in years, unfortunately, and he’s missed the giggles of his goddaughter like crazy. “How old is she now?”

Ragnor hums in thought. “Six?” he questions, frowning at the page. He scoffs, circling an entire paragraph in red ink, and grumbles under his breath again, continuing to write the paper. “She’ll probably be seven by the end of the year.”

Magnus snorts at that. “Well I’d sure hope so,” he laughs. “Otherwise she’d be practically immortal.”

There’s a ghost of a smile that graces Ragnor’s face as he continues to grade silently. By the time he’s finished the first paper, he sets down his pen to take another large gulp of his coffee. He turns to the monitor to his left, typing diligently on it.

“Catarina mentioned you found a place,” Ragnor says, looking back to Magnus curiously. “Have you moved in yet?”

Magnus chuckles. “My things arrived this morning. I spent most of the morning assembling the necessary things, but there are still boxes to unpack.”

“I’m sure Catarina and Madzie wouldn’t mind a call from you,” Ragnor offers, gazing away from the monitor to peer over his glasses at his friend. “If you need help with anything—”

“Ragnor, it’s fine. I promise,” Magnus assures, waving away his offer. “I appreciate the offer, but not to worry, all the heavy duty lifting has already been taken care of.”

Ragnor gives him an incredulous look. “ _You_ did the heavy lifting on your own? Like putting together shelves and moving furniture?”

Magnus snorts. “Good god, no! Could you really imagine me moving that couch all on my own?” He chuckles. “I had the movers help me.”

Ragnor rolls his eyes, turning back to the monitor and clicking his mouse a couple times. “Meaning you told them where to put things, and probably ogled one of their asses in the process.

“You caught me,” Magnus sighs, raising his hands in a sign of defeat. “What can I say? They’re attractive, they’re sweaty, and they obviously know how to handle the _heavy artillery_.”

There’s a jolt from Ragnor at Magnus’ insinuation, causing him to press down on a number of different keys and effectively ruining what he was trying to type. He scoffs, pressing his finger against the backspace button to erase his ruined work. “You’re insufferable,” he states pointedly.

“Yes, but you love me,” Magnus quips back with another laugh. His eyes drift over to the clock on the wall across from where he sits. It ticks silently, but he notices it’s gotten a little later than he hoped. If he’s going to get everything unpacked by tonight, he should be getting back home.

“Luckily for you, I’ve got to get going,” Magnus starts again, standing up from his chair and placing the now empty coffee mug on Ragnor’s desk. He stretches a bit. “Have fun grading papers, Ragnor.”

Ragnor waves him off with a half-hearted flick of the wrist, keeping his focus on the monitor.

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips at the gesture. No matter how many years he’s know Ragnor, he still has that habit of engrossing in his work. Almost as quietly as he came in, he leaves Ragnor’s office, closing the door and making his way back out from campus.

As soon as he steps out of the building, he takes a deep breath, oxygen filling his lungs once more. His body thrums with an air of excitement.

There’s potential here.

He knows it.

 

 

It’s just after 4 when Magnus finishes unpacking everything in the kitchen. Everything seemed to survive the move—thank god—and now it’s found its home within the confines of the kitchen cupboards. As he goes to take off the post-it notes tacked to the smooth surfaces of the cupboards he used for organization, a curt knock echoes from the entryway.

Magnus’ brows furrow.

_He wasn’t expecting anyone._

Abandoning the post-it notes, he walks over towards the entryway, carefully wrapping his hands around the golden doorknob and turning it just so—

“Magnus!”

“Sweet Pea!” Magnus calls back, recognizing the voice immediately as he squats to the floor as his goddaughter comes running towards him. Her hair is done up into two cute little braids that flap behind her as she runs. Magnus holds open his arms as she jumps into his embrace, and he secures her in a hug, twirling her around as she giggles. “Goodness look at you!” he raves, stopping his spinning to look her over. “Have you gotten taller?”

Madzie’s eyes flicker with spirit as she nods excessively. “Mmhm!” she hums, looking back towards Catarina, who steps into the apartment with Ragnor. She closes the door behind her. “Momma even measured me!”

He looks over to Catarina. “And?”

Catarina gives a warm smile. “A whole inch and a half,” she replies.

Magnus gives a full bodied gasp at that, looking back to Madzie, who wears a proud look. “My sweet pea is getting so tall! Think you’ll be taller than Uncle Ragnor?”

They both look towards Ragnor, whose tall frame stands near the doorway. He folds his arms at their sudden attention.

Madzie pouts in thought, shaking her head a second later. “He’s _too_ tall,” she emphasizes.

Magnus laughs at that. “I suppose he is. Like a grumpy giraffe, right?”

“Right!” Madzie giggles lightheartedly with Magnus.

Ragnor frowns again. “You say that as if you’re shorter than me,” he points out. “Last time I checked, _you_ were taller.”

“Details, details,” Magnus dismisses. He looks back to Madzie with a smile, but it falters a second later. Curiosity picks at his brain, trailing his eyes away from his goddaughter and towards his two friends who still stand in the entryway. “Speaking of details, what are you two doing here? I believe we made plans for tomorrow afternoon, didn’t we?”

Catarina nods, stepping forward as she makes her way into the main living space. She takes in the sights with a smile. “Yes, but Ragnor called me saying that you needed a bit of assistance unpacking. Madzie and I have these next two days off, and she wanted to see her favorite godfather as soon as she could.”

Madzie gives Magnus a hug almost on cue, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He leans into the touch, but glares at Ragnor over her shoulder. Ragnor just wears an indifferent look, accompanied by a shrug.

_Bastard._

“Good,” Magnus replies cheerfully, masking his aggravation at Ragnor as he turns back towards Catarina. “I could really use the help.”

Catarina’s warm, summery smile persists. “Madzie, how about we start helping Magnus with unpacking?”

Madzie turns back towards her mother, and Magnus leans down to put her back on the ground. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she’s running towards her mother. He points to the boxes by the start of the hall that leads to the bedroom, office, and bathroom. “You can take those to my room,” he starts. “There are some heavier ones in there, so make sure Madzie doesn’t handle those.”

Catarina nods at that, walking over to take a box in her hands. Madzie follows her, soon disappearing down the hall.

Magnus turns back towards the bookshelves, leaning down to rip open one of the boxes with **Books** scrawled on the side. Silently, he starts putting the books in the shelves, neatly sorting them by order of author. “You really didn’t have to come over,” he starts somewhat pointedly. “I told you I had it covered.”

“Oh I know,” Ragnor replies, reaching for another box of books to put on the other set of shelves. “But I also know you, Magnus, and you’re extremely stubborn when you want to be, not letting anyone else help you when you admittedly need it.”

Magnus scoffs. “It’s just unpacking, Ragnor. I told you, I’m fine.”

Ragnor doesn’t say anything more, letting the silence and the quiet clunk of books against the wooden boards of the shelves ring out.

“Oh.”

The small statement pulls Magnus out of the trance of putting away the books as he diverts his attention back towards Ragnor, who holds a book with a cream colored cover in his hands. He recognizes it immediately, going rigid.

“I recognize this book,” he mutters out, fingertips brushing the cover. “This is—”

“We finished!” Madzie rings out as she runs back into the main living room, blissfully unaware of the tense mood between the two men.

Catarina comes in a second later, and her eyes immediately zone in on the book, knowing its significance. There’s an obvious tension in the air, an elephant in the room that Magnus desperately wants to keep hidden away. He turns towards Ragnor, taking the book from his hands and sliding it into the bookshelf.

“Just leave it,” he whispers.

For once, he just wants his friends to comply with his wishes. He doesn’t need help. He’s fine.

He doesn’t want this, though. He doesn’t want his friends to see the chips in his foundation, the weaknesses and insecurities that come out to play ever so often. He just moved; a breakdown in front of his friends is the last thing he wants.

Magnus takes a deep breath.

_He’s fine._

There’s a slight tug at the tail of his shirt, still tucked in to his trousers. With a glance over his shoulder, he sees Madzie has made her way over to him, looking up at him with those bright, child-like eyes. There’s a sadness there, paired with confusion.

“Magnus?” she questions carefully.

Magnus quickly buries down all the ugly emotions that swirl in his chest, replacing them with a gentle smile as he abandons his clutches on the book. He turns back to Madzie, crouching down to meet her height.

“I’m okay,” he reassures, patting her head. “But I could use your help unpacking some of the stuff in my office. Would you help me?”

The worried look in her eyes melts as he diverts the subject, that gleeful look spreading across her face once more. She excitedly nods before turning to run down the hall once more.

Magnus lifts from where he squatted down, giving a quick glance to his friends who—unlike Madzie—still wear their melancholic looks. “After you’re finished with the books, there’s another box with the electronics that need to be hooked up,” he states, glancing away from them and walking towards his office without another word.

 

 

Despite his best efforts, Magnus still isn’t able to avoid his friend’s nosy behavior.

Thankfully, however, it’s not at the hands of Ragnor.

Rangor and Madzie sit on the couch in front of the TV, which plays some childish cartoon he doesn’t recognize. He keeps her entertained, letting Catarina have a free moment to join Magnus out on the balcony. She closes the door with a silent click as she walks up next to Magnus, leaning against the glass railing overlooking the city.

“I’ll admit that when you said you were looking for a place to settle down, I was nervous,” she starts out, the wind playing with a few loose strands of her dark hair. “The last time you moved was back in LA, and we both know how well the turnout of that was.” Magnus snorts at that, keeping his gaze out on the distance. “I must say though,” she adds, gaze casting out across the high-rises around them, “It’s an amazing view.”

Magnus gives a half-hearted shrug. “I _do_ enjoy a good view, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Catarina agrees with the same teasing tone in her voice, playfully shoving Magnus’ shoulder lightly. “I think I like this place better than your flat in LA, honestly.”

Magnus lets out a disinterested hum, looking away to train his eyes on the distant skyline. “And I assume it’s now your turn to pry into my personal life?” he questions, though its flat tone makes it seem more like a statement

“No,” Catarina starts, fingertips trailing against the edge of the glass. “Unlike Ragnor, I won’t try to pry into what you don’t want to talk about.” A serious look passes over her face, her brows stitching together as she tries to piece the thoughts in her head. “I know that what happened is still relatively fresh, and that it’s going to take time to get over. I know you’re also trying to sweep it under the rug like you always do, to push us away and deal with this on your own.” She pulls her gaze away from the city, turning fully to face Magnus. “Magnus, I trust you enough to respect your space, to know that you can handle this and that it won’t get the best of you.” Her frown deepens, sorrow flooding into her face. “But if you can’t handle it...if it gets to the point where you feel like you can’t run from it, _don’t._ Don’t run from it. Ragnor and I are just a call away, and we’ll be here in a heartbeat for you.”

Magnus takes it all in with a heavy breath, letting the weight of her words settle in his chest before releasing them back out into the atmosphere. His gaze falters from her face, falling down to his feet.

“But what about Madzie?” he questions. “You can’t just drop your life for me, Cat. Neither of you can.” He glances back at Ragnor briefly and sighs. “Look, tonight, all I wanted was to just come home and have a relaxing night to myself, not having to worry about…” he trails, flailing his hands in front of him, “...this.” Magnus shakes his head. “I appreciate your offer, Cat, I do. But I’m fine. I’ll _be_ fine,” he emphasizes. “I promise you, if it gets bad...I’ll let you know, okay?”

Despite his reassuring words, Catarina doesn’t look swayed. But true to her word, her tense stature softens. “Okay,” she sighs out, a slight smile gracing her features once more. She steps forward, placing a gentle hand to Magnus’ bicep. She gives it a reassuring squeeze, silently speaking the words neither of them can say. “Why don’t we go back inside?” she offers. “Madzie and I should be getting home soon, and I wouldn’t want her to whine about not seeing her favorite godfather enough today.”

Magnus chuckles at that, grateful for her words and for her attempts to bring back the lighthearted mood from before.  He nods slightly, letting his smile brighten up the features on his face. “Yes,” he says softly.

Catarina gives another squeeze to his arm before she pulls away, turning towards the door.

“Oh, and Cat?”

She turns back around at Magnus’ call, a curious look in her eyes.

“Thank you,” he says.

That smile, the endearing one that shows all the love and care she holds in her heart, warms up the cool evening air around them. With her hand still on the handle of the door, she replies.

“Any time.”

 

 

By the time Cat, Madzie, and Ragnor leave, night has overtaken the city. As the sun disappears beyond the horizon, the lights of the city ever so slowly flare up, illuminating the night. It’s much quieter now in the apartment, too. Within the first hour of Magnus truly being alone in his apartment, he can tell that it’s far quieter than when he lived in California. There, it was always filled with some sort of commotion, some sort of honking or loud music blaring in the distance, the usual city bustle.

But here, there’s hardly any of that. The distance from campus makes it impervious to the loud bass of college parties or the drunken yelling of underage students. There’s quaint silence, and the view from his kitchen window is perfect, overlooking the city and how the lights illuminate the high-rises around him. He pours a glass of Merlot before silently walking over to the large panes of glass that overlook the city. Taking a steady breath, his eyes take in the breathtaking sight before him.

He wasn’t lying when he said that there was potential here. Even though the first night in a new place should feel daunting and foreign, he feels almost at home here. The calm nature of the loft soothes him, it’s silence far from unnerving. He thinks—perhaps—it’s also due to Catarina and Ragnor coming over. Despite the hiccups, they did the best they could to make this place feel like a home. Madzie already drew him a couple of pictures that he tacked a magnet to on the fridge. Catarina gave him a cozy throw blanket she had made, which is now draped over the back of his cream-colored couch. Even Ragnor contributed a bit, arranging the little word magnets into a small poem complaining how he shouldn’t be picked on.

It made Magnus laugh to say the least.

He’s grateful for the gifts, grateful for the company. If he’s honest, they had a right to be worried. Too many times, he’s unpacked belongings and mulled over their significance, getting lost in the past and the mistakes that accompany them. Some of them are more light-hearted, like when they were unpacking his souvenirs from traveling. Others however, are heavier, and he can get lost in those, reliving them as if they just happened.

Those are the ones that are the most dangerous.

Magnus blinks out of his thoughts, turning away from the window and padding over towards the couch. He flicks on the television, letting the sound of the news reporter fill the empty loft as he goes to sit on the couch. He sits there for a while, sipping silently on his wine whilst watching what the world has been up to since the move.

_The move…_

His gut lurches uncomfortably again at the thought, raising his gaze from his glass to try and distract himself once more. As he raises his glass, his eyes catch the cream colored book, whose bindings stick out against all the other books of his collection. A storm swirls in his mind.

_Maybe..._

No _._ He’s not going to open it. He _can’t_ open it. Despite it being months after the fact, he still can’t bear to look in that book.

It’s too hard.

He glances back down at his wine, taking a deep breath before he downs the entire glass. Despite how much he wants to go for another, getting drunk the night before he’s going to take a tour of campus would not be an ideal way to meet the chairman of the art and sciences division.

He changes the station, turning away from the news until he finds a channel playing _Die Hard_. He shifts on the couch, abandoning his glass on the side table and tugging the blanket from Catarina around his shoulders. It isn’t cold in the apartment, but he does it for comfort.

Anything to get away from the past.

 

 

“So as you can see, we have a wide array of facilities on campus.”

Magnus blinks out of his tired haze just in time to stop before he bumps into the chairman of the arts and sciences division. She turns to him with a smile as they stand out in the open area of McMicken Commons. The area is bustling with student activity, ranging from casual conversations to a rather intense game of frisbee in the grass. The chairman turns eastward. “There you’ll find the Tangeman University Center—or as some students will refer to it, the TUC—and it houses a number of restaurants, a movie theater, bookstore, meeting spaces, and a campus pub.” She gives him a teasing look. “Though I should point out, we don’t suggest drinking on the clock.”

Magnus chuckles at that. “Not to worry, Mrs. Penhallow, the only drinks I’ll consume on the clock involve caffeine and coffee as black as it comes.”

The chairman huffs out a breathy laugh at that. “You have a sense of humor, Mr. Bane. And please, call me Jia.”

He gives a warm smile back to Jia, nodding as they continue with the tour. She lists off the generic statistics of the school, with over 44,000 students and 10,500 faculty and staff across all 14 of the colleges on campus. She gives the percentages of graduate students to undergraduate, and recites some of the important values. It’s the same speech he’s heard throughout touring different universities, but he can’t say he isn’t impressed with this place.

“And this is McMicken Hall,” Jia gestures. “It’s our largest college here at UC, and facilitates our College of Arts and Sciences. Consider this your new home,” she adds warmly.

Magnus looks up at the building itself, taking in all of its glory. It’s a beautiful building, built with aged red brick and plenty of windows to let in the spring sun from outside. There’s about four floors to it as well, no doubt housing a plethora of classrooms and offices.

He follows Jia inside as they immediately head to one of the elevators, taking it to the third floor.

“The first three floors of our college are predominately classrooms,” she informs. The elevator dings, and she directs him out into the hallway. They eventually stop at an empty classroom which Jia unlocks. They step in as she flicks on the lights, displaying the classroom.

It’s your standard classroom for a lecture, with enough seats for almost 50 people. There’s a projector and computer in the front, as well as a standard blackboard.

“Not all the classrooms are like this, but this is the typical layout of most classrooms in McMicken Hall,” Jia states. “The largest classrooms are on the first floor, and many graduate panels and talks happen there.” She nods towards the board. “Most classrooms have both a projector and a chalkboard as well.” Magnus turns back towards her, and she gives a pleased smile. “Shall we show you to your office?”

“That would be lovely, Jia, thank you.”

They take the stairs to the fourth floor, which is strictly faculty offices. As soon as she steps out from the stairwell, she turns to the first office which—sure enough—has his name sitting in the window. She turns to back towards him, handing him a bronze key.

“This is the key to your office, and your ID card will unlock any of the classrooms in this building. I’ll let you get settled in. If you have any questions, my office is on the second floor. I also have my office number, which you can find in the directory.”

Magnus smiles at her welcoming tone. “Thank you again, Jia.”

“We look forward to working with you, Magnus.” With a shared nod, Jia turns, disappearing once more to the stairwell.

Magnus turns back to his office, quickly unlocking it and closing the door behind him. The office itself is reminiscent of his apartment, with large windows on the opposite side of where he stands, letting the natural light peek through the blinds. Flicking on the lights, he steps in further. There’s a couple of bookshelves to his left and on the back ledge rests a coffee pot. He turns towards the L-shaped mahogany desk that lies prominent in the space. It’s housed with the pictures of his travels and of his friends, as well as a desktop computer and a landline phone. Across from the desk is a couple of chairs for students or other guests to sit in.

He smiles at the space, taking it in all at once with a deep inhale.

“Home sweet home.”

 

 

“It still amazes me that you have the gall to order a drink in the early hours of the afternoon.”

He spoke up right after Magnus had ordered a cocktail from the waitress when asking for their drinks. “It’s happy hour somewhere, Ragnor,” Magnus replies coyly.

Ragnor rolls his eyes, looking over to Catarina. “Catarina, darling, can’t you say something to discourage him?”

Catarina takes her eyes away from Madzie, who sits next to her, coloring in one of the books brought for her. “If he only has one, and if he doesn’t drive home, it’s fine,” she states, much to Ragnor’s disappointment.

Magnus gives a gleaming smile of endearment to Catarina. “Thank you, dearest,” he says, just in time for the waitress to come back with their drinks. She sets down Ragnor and Catarina’s teas, as well as Madzie’s Sprite, before handing Magnus his cocktail. “Oh, and thank you,” Magnus says, taking the cocktail in hand. A quick wink sends a small blush across her cheeks, and he can’t help the smile that builds as she stammers through taking their orders. When she turns away once more, Ragnor gives an unimpressed glare.

“We really can’t take you anywhere, can we?” he sighs out.

“You can take me to plenty of places. I just can’t promise I’ll behave in all of them.”

Ragnor scoffs again, and Catarina laughs at his joke.

He smiles at his friends, letting that familiar warm feeling swirl in his gut. This is what he’s missed ever since he had moved out to LA. He missed the joy of having lunch with friends, with laughing over old and new stories, with enjoying a warm spring day out on the restaurant patio without having to worry about sweating all his makeup off. It’s domestic and comforting.

It already feels like home.

“So is Jia as prickly and uptight as Ragnor says she is?” Catarina asks, taking a sip of her tea.

Magnus looks over towards Ragnor. “You really said that? You’re the most uptight person I know.” Ragnor scowls at him, and Magnus laughs before looking back to Catarina. “She seemed friendly enough,” he says.

“You’ve only spent an hour or so with her,” Ragnor interjects. “She’s insufferable the second you have to sit through one of her faculty-wide meetings.”

“She’s just passionate about the school and doing her job right, Ragnor,” Magnus says back. “We still love you even when you get caught up in your rants about old English literature.”

There’s a guffaw from Ragnor that makes the other two laugh. As the food arrives and they start enjoying their meals, Magnus lets the warmth thrumming through him carry him into an old memory when they were undergraduates and Ragnor took a debate class. He had passed easily, as he was well-versed in the arguments, presenting as much evidence as possible in his favor.

“He was _convinced_ you were cheating!” Magnus says, giving a full bodied laugh as he leans back in his chair. “How anyone can cheat in a debate class is beyond me.”

“I don’t think there is a way, but he was rather adamant that there was,” Ragnor professes. “Let’s not forget about your squabbles with the accuracies of Middle East history with Mrs. Crawford. Now _that_ was a spectacle.”

Magnus chuckles at that, taking another sip of his drink. He remembers Mrs. Crawford and her completely biased and incompetent views on the history of the Middle East. She tried to fail him when he presented a paper on the intricacies of Islam. But after bringing it up with the higher ups, he passed with flying colors. He smirks smugly in his glass at the memory.

Catarina rolls her eyes. “Maybe I was lucky,” she perks up. “The medical field was filled with far less crazies than both of your departments.”

“Which means you have far less interesting stories,” Magnus supplies.

“Ha! Says you,” she counters. She goes to open her mouth, but stops just enough to look back at Madzie, who has finished her grilled cheese sandwich and gone back to coloring the book she had earlier. She turns back to Magnus and Ragnor. “You’re lucky today boys, but I won’t spare any details the next time.”

“Oh, I look forward to it,” Magnus quips. As he takes another sip of his drink, the waitress returns with their checks. They go Dutch, covering their portions of the meal. Once his card is returned, he downs the last of his drink, reveling in the sweetened aftertaste of the cocktail.

His phone pings a second later.

Drawing it out of his pocket, he looks at the sender.

As his eyes recognize the name, he feels the sweet aftertaste of the alcohol turn bitter. He swallows thickly, a cold chill working his way up his spine.

_I thought I changed the number...didn’t I?_

“Magnus?”

Magnus tears his eyes away from the screen instantly, dropping the phone so that it rests in his lap. He tries to mask the anxiousness he suddenly feels in a surprised smile. “Yes, Cat?”

Her brows furrow at his sudden movements. “Is everything okay?”

_She knows_ , he thinks. There’s no way she doesn’t know. They’ve been friends forever. There’s no sense in lying to her. He should just—

“Everything’s fine,” he lies anyway. “I just got an email, that’s all.”

He smiles wider, hoping, _praying_ that they don’t ask further, that they don’t push, that they just _leave it alone_.

“Oh yes,” Ragnor interjects, lifting his phone from his shirt pocket, “I just got one too.” He rolls his eyes, opening up his phone with an aggravated sigh. “The University will email you over anything and everything. ‘Tis the curse of being part of the faculty.”

Catarina’s look softens then, and the anxiety in Magnus’ chest lifts slightly. Lying to them is never easy, and almost never works out. But it does this time, and he’s grateful.

That thought stops him.

_He’s lying._

And he’s _happy_ he’s lying to them.

What kind of twisted thought is that? He shouldn’t be lying to them, shouldn’t be trying to cover up the cracks that are so clearly there and caving in on him. But he can’t purge his problems on them. They’ve dealt with so many of his problems, his fuck ups and accidents. He can’t drag them into this mess of things again.

He blinks, looking between Catarina, Madzie, and Ragnor to see them smiling, joyous, laughing.

Blissful.

He’s thankful that his hands are resting under the table where they can’t see. His hands are trembling, bones shaking under his skin. He balls a fist, the blunt of his nails coming to press harsh crescents into the tender skin of his palm. He feels so much shame lying to them, but he doesn’t want them to worry, to pity him.

His personal issues are just that: his.

Suddenly, he feels like he’s suffocating. The anxiousness and shame flood back over him all at once,  an unanticipated onslaught he wasn’t prepared for. His chest aches, worries prickling against his skin. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of every action, every stuttered breath and tremble his body gives.

He can’t be here.

He can’t let them see him like this.

“Well,” he starts, forcing on another smile as he looks between his friends. He prays that his voice isn’t wavering as he continues, “I’m glad I could meet all of you again for a small ‘Welcome to Cincinnati’ celebration.” He looks to the watch on his left wrist to see the time. “But I should probably get going. I have a package that I have to sign for at the apartment, and the delivery said they’d be there within the next hour, so I guess I’ll see you all lat—”

A clatter resounds as he rises from the seat, effectively cutting off his train of thought as he looks down to the source of the sound. To his dismay, his phone—which had still been lying in his lap—now found its residence on the concrete patio, face down. “Shit.”

Madzie gasps. “Momma, Magnus said a bad word!”

Magnus sighs, leaning down to collect his phone. “I know, I know,” he says defeatedly. He rises back up, placing the phone back on the table before fishing out his wallet and placing two quarters on the metal table. He slides them to Madzie. “Add those to the jar when you get home, okay?”

Madzie nods.

“Is your phone okay, Magnus?” Catarina asks.

With a sigh, Magnus turns it over. Luckily the screen is fine, with no obvious scratches or cracks on it. His case, however, seems to have taken the brunt of the force. He shouldn’t be upset, after all that’s the whole purpose of having the case. But nevertheless, his heart still sinks as he notices the case has been cracked and broken upon repair.

“The phone is fine,” he informs. “Can’t say much for my case though.”

“A case can be replaced, a phone not so easily,” Ragnor states.

Magnus can’t help but roll his eyes at that. Ragnor has always been like this: looking at the bigger picture and painting it as if it’s not the end of the world. Realistically, it’s not. It’s a phone case, easily replaceable. But as Magnus brushes the pad of his thumb against the cracks of the glittery case, he can’t help but feel his gut sink once more. The hairline fractures of the case are barely noticeable, but if he pushes just a bit more, the cracks become obvious, unavoidable. The wear and tear from years of abuse still blend into the glittery background, and though it was camouflaged before, now it seems like they stick out with the other cracks of the case.

Magnus huffs out a breath, shaking his head.

It’s silly to think how much he could possibly have in common with a phone case.

“You’re right,” Magnus agrees half-heartedly. “I’ll just find another one on Amazon.” He tears his gaze away from his phone, slipping it back into his back pocket. He gives them both one more smile, hating himself all the while for lying to them. “I’ll see you two soon.” He turns to Madzie, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “Be good, Sweet Pea.”

Madzie gives him a bright-eyed smile, and it only makes the shameful feeling of running away worse.

With a pat on her head and another smile, he leaves, not daring to give a second glance over his shoulder.

The ride back is exhausting. His Uber driver stays relatively quiet the entire time, letting just the city bustle and low soundtrack of old 80’s hits playing on the radio. Magnus takes his phone out again, pressing against the cracks of the case and watching as they open. A honk from a nearby car suddenly startles him, his thumb firmly pressing against the crack until it caves, splintering completely.

“Everything alright back there?” The driver perks up, hazel eyes glancing up to the rear view mirror.

Magnus keeps his eyes trained on the case, broken pieces of glittery plastic now sitting in the palm of his hand. “Yeah,” he mutters out. “My case just broke, that’s all.”

“Sorry to hear that. You can always get another one off of Amazon.”

He zones out then, letting his mind and memories take over as they ride back to his apartment. He doesn’t have the strength to respond. Not now.

When he gets home, he buys another case on Amazon.

After all, it’s just a stupid case.

 

 

His aching back and the blinding rays of sunshine through the window are what wakes him the next morning. With a groan, Magnus sits up from where he passed out on the couch. He winces at the dry, disgusting taste in his mouth, searching for a glass of water to wash it away. He looks to the coffee table to see the empty bottle of vodka sitting there, not a glass in sight.

_Well that explains the headache,_ he thinks.

He doesn’t remember much about the night before, probably thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed. All he remembers is coming home, ordering a phone case, and turning on the TV to distract himself while he drowned out his sorrows.

So his usual way of coping, it seems.

He glances over towards the TV, which still going and playing some old reruns of _The Twilight Zone._ He rubs a hand across his face before leaning over to turn it off.

The silence that settles soon after is deafening, and all that’s left is the pounding of his headache and the resounding echoes of last night’s memories.

He needs coffee.

Magnus rises up from the couch, stretching out his back that aches in response to sleeping on the couch all night. He turns towards the kitchen, putting on the coffee pot to brew. It’s ready in minutes, and he drinks it black, letting the bitter taste wash over his slightly-hungover self. For once, he’s thankful for the weekend. Nothing is worse than going to work with a hangover.

After coffee and a scalding hot shower, he’s more awake. He looks to his phone charging on the counter to see that it’s about lunchtime. His cupboards and fridge are horrendously bare, an obvious indication that it’s only his second night there.

_Guess I’ll just have to go out and buy something._

With a defeated sigh, he unplugs his phone from the charger, grabs his jacket and keys, and heads out the door.

Stepping out into the lobby, he’s surprised to see many of the patrons taking advantage of the communal space. There are a few people sitting on the couches reading the paper or scrolling on their phones while a few others sit towards the windows to his right, occupying the chess tables supplied there. Taking a step out from the elevator, he meets eyes with the woman at the front desk, who wears a salmon colored dress that accentuates her dark hair and kind eyes.

He walks over towards her with a smile. “Hello, Dorothea.”

Dot smiles back at him cheerfully. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bane,” she greets. “Off to see the world?”

“Soon,” he replies curtly. “Did anything come in this morning?”

Dot purses her lips for a minute. “I’m not sure, but I’m not usually on shift when the mail is delivered. But it’s always distributed to the mailboxes just around the corner there,” she indicates, pointing across the way to a small entryway near the chess tables.

Magnus turns back to Dot, thanking her with a smile before he walks over to the room with the mailboxes.

The room itself is an average size, lined up with all the mailboxes for the apartments in the building. His eyes comb over the numbers, scanning the silver doors until he finds his apartment number.

The mailbox for 13B is right in the middle of the wall, almost exactly so. It’s the perfect height as well, not too high to stretch for nor too low to crouch down for. He digs out his key, fitting it into the lock. It clicks unlocked, and he opens the door.

_Hello new phone case—_

In a swift movement, he reveals the interior of the mailbox. However, he’s surprised to see that the anticipated package is not there. He frowns, taking out his phone to unlock it. He thought he had checked that it would get here within the next day or so...

He taps the screen to his phone, and sure enough in big bold letters reads **not delivered.** He sighs.

_Oh well,_ he thinks, _guess I’ll check later and—_

As he goes to close the mailbox, his eyes catch something within the slot. Brows furrowed, he reaches in. Sure enough, his fingertips brush against a coarse texture. He brings it forward, out of the darkness of the mailbox and into the light of the lobby.

It’s an envelope.

Magnus’ frown deepens as he turns the envelope over, looking for the return address to see who had sent him a letter. To his surprise, the back of the envelope is blank, with no return address nor intended recipient written on it. The overall format is sketchy, but there’s something about it that seems to pique his curiosity.

Before he can get too invested in what lies in the blank envelope, another tenant comes in to obtain their mail. Magnus blinks out of his stupor, shutting his mailbox and locking it back.

As he files back out into the main lobby, he meets Dot’s gaze once more.

Her eyes notice the letter in his hands. “Oh, a letter already?” She perks up. “Someone must be popular.”

Magnus’ lips twitch up in a smile, as fake as it is. He lifts the letter in promise, turning back towards the elevator.

When it closes behind him, he heaves out a sigh, looking back down to the letter.

_Who would leave a blank envelope in his mailbox?_

That’s the question he desperately wants to know.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! I hope to get another chapter out before the semester starts back for me, but until then you can find me over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/the_biconic_mb) or on [tumblr](https://biconicmagnusbane.tumblr.com/) (though i am more active on twitter rn)!


End file.
